Our Weimaraner, Gus, was a great friend and companion to our whole family. He loved company as long as they came in the front door, but didn’t like anyone in the back yard. He loved howling at bugle calls, sirens, and when greeting guests. I wrote this poem when he started getting old in hopes of making his passing a little easier on my daughters. It was originally titled Ole Blackie, but I changed it after he died.

Ole Gray Gussy

Ole Gussy lived a happy life, roaming with his master;
They explored ten thousand mountain sides, in search of game and treasure.

He slept at night on soft warm sheets, with pillows too, in piles;
He was treated well and spoken to as if he were a child.

The years went by and he got old, gray hairs were on his muzzle;
His legs were weak, his eyes were dim, skin wrinkled like a puzzle.

One night while he lay sleeping, he dreamp’t of being young;
Running through the fields at dawn, dew sparkling in the sun.

Ole Gussy’s life has ended now, for from the dream he did not waken;
Chasing Rabbits in the fields again, their cottontails a wav’in.

— Christopher from McChord AFB, WA